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<title>Touch by Lady of Prompts (Aethelflaed)</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27549562">Touch</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aethelflaed/pseuds/Lady%20of%20Prompts'>Lady of Prompts (Aethelflaed)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>BINGO [12]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Happy Ending, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Aziraphale (Good Omens), Pining, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Unresolved Emotional Tension, but then it gets resolved, highly charged not-touching</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:00:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>559</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27549562</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aethelflaed/pseuds/Lady%20of%20Prompts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Crowley’s hands snapped into place, resting on either side of Aziraphale’s, taking the weight of the books. He stood unmoving until Aziraphale released them, hand dropping away without ever touching Crowley’s.</p><p>It was a dance, of a sort. An intricate, millennia-long dance, learning each other’s movements until they could navigate even the narrowest of spaces without ever quite touching.<br/>--<br/>Pining with a happy ending</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>BINGO [12]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2017241</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>96</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Aspec-friendly Good Omens, Kisses Bingo</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Touch</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for Kisses Bingo! The prompt: "Just missed skin-to-skin touch" and "absentminded kisses." Gotta say, I was intrigued by the combination of intense pining suggested by one and soft familiarity suggested by the other...</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Blast,” Aziraphale muttered as a book fell out of his hand. He would never shift the rest fast enough to—</p><p>Crowley caught it easily. “Let me help you.”</p><p>“Ah.” Aziraphale kept his eyes on the shelf in front of him, the faded covers of the tilted books, the motes of dust dancing in the bookshop air. “It…it goes right there.”</p><p>“Where?” Crowley stepped up behind him, not quite touching, but so very near. His presence <em>pressed</em> along Aziraphale’s back, as if the air between them had turned solid.</p><p>“Just here.” He managed to get the stack of books in need of reshelving balanced on his right hand, while his left hooked one of the heavy tomes on the shelf, pushing the whole line of them straight. “In that gap.”</p><p>“Course.”</p><p>Slowly, carefully, Crowley’s arm stretched over Aziraphale’s shoulder. His hand – his <em>thumb</em> passed so near Aziraphale could almost feel the brush of it against his cheek.</p><p>The book tapped against the shelf, and Crowley leaned forward as he slid it into place, his face coming close alongside Aziraphale’s, his breath tickling across the angel’s ear.</p><p>With a quiet <em>shhhh,</em> the book was where it belonged, two fingers of Crowley’s hand resting on the spine. Aziraphale’s hand released the other books, letting them settle into place, leaning against the deep red leather of the newest addition.</p><p>He could settle, too, just the tiniest hair of a movement. Rock back a little on his heels, tip his head to the side. Settle against the desert-warm heat that raced up his neck, across his back, down to his core.</p><p>Aziraphale’s fingers landed on the red leather just as Crowley’s pulled away, curling as they moved, retracting over his shoulder, past his jaw.</p><p>“Anything else?”</p><p>Swallowing, Aziraphale turned around, leaning back against the shelf, trying to put some space between them, grateful that there was nowhere to go. “Ah. Well. The rest of these…” He tried to heft the stack of books he held one-handed, nearly spilling them all.</p><p>Crowley’s hands snapped into place, resting on either side of Aziraphale’s, taking the weight of the books. He stood unmoving until Aziraphale released them, hand dropping away without ever touching Crowley’s.</p><p>It was a dance, of a sort. An intricate, millennia-long dance, learning each other’s movements until they could navigate even the narrowest of spaces without ever <em>quite</em> touching. Crowley’s head tipped forward, just a little, as he pressed the books to his chest, his nose sliding past Aziraphale’s his lips stopping just short—</p><p>Crowley stepped back. “Lead the way, Angel.”</p><p>A deep breath. Straighten the waistcoat, the jacket, the tie. Back to work. No time for…<em>foolishness.</em></p><p>“Right. This way.”</p><p>--</p><p>“Blast,” Aziraphale muttered as a book fell out of his hand. He’d never turn around fast enough to—</p><p>Crowley caught it easily. “You’re too clumsy,” he commented, dropping it back on top of the stack, absentmindedly kissing Aziraphale’s cheek while they were close. “Let me take those.”</p><p>Crowley’s arms squeezed around Aziraphale in the narrow cottage stairway, quickly lifting the stack of books. He staggered a little under their weight, and Aziraphale slipped a hand around his waist for balance, fingers resting on his spine. “Are you sure?”</p><p>Crowley settled against him with a smile. “Course. I got this. Lead the way, Angel.”</p><p>Aziraphale smiled and kissed his nose. “Right. This way.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading!</p><p>Just a little quick thing, but I hope it made you smile.</p><p>(Full disclosure: someone wrote a fic with a very similar set up, ages ago, on Tumblr, in which in the first half Aziraphale is driven mad by a single hair out of place on Crowley's head, and in the second casually plays with Crowley's hair while he sleeps. If anyone knows what that fic is, let me know!)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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